


Uncomfortably Numb

by clevagirl (lescafenix)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 19:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15936713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lescafenix/pseuds/clevagirl
Summary: Noctis returns from the crystal overwhelmed, disoriented and disheartened by the state of the world and his friends' lives. Prompto offers him a little bit of what he uses to make it through the darkness.





	Uncomfortably Numb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [godsbow_lithium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/godsbow_lithium/gifts).



> Prompt: "The drugs we share. Noctis' first time use/first time anything/Prompto as teacher."

He was shaking as he stepped out into the cold, dark cavern. His body was quaking uncontrollably--in his disoriented state Noctis wondered if the Archaean had awoken again to come greet him. Everything was heavy, and he felt as though he wasn't even moving of his own volition. It was then that he realized the shaking was coming from within him. It was cold. So cold.

Where was he? He fought through the fog in his brain for memories. The last thing he remembered was the voice of Bahamut, in his ears, his brain, his soul. It had pushed him forward and expelled him from the muffled warmth of the Crystal like a child from its mother’s womb, and he felt just as naked, confused and overwhelmed in that moment.

It was dark -- so it was night time? Noctis’s limbs moved jerkily, pushing him forward whether he wanted to go that way or not. How long had he been out? Where was he?

Umbra was a welcome touchstone. He was always happy to see Luna’s faithful dog, but with him he brought the crushing reminder of everything that had been sacrificed only to send Noctis into that crystal.

_Luna…_

_Iggy…_

The cobwebs were still clinging when movement ahead caught his eye. He would recognize Gentiana’s flowing scarves anywhere, and her words pushed him forward again like another contraction.

_Angelgard._

_Insomnia._

_Chosen King._

_Ardyn._

How long had he been out? And what the hell was waiting for him?

Fighting his way through hordes of daemons only strengthened the sinking feeling of dread in Noctis’s stomach. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. The world was dead and abandoned. Where had all the people gone? Was he too late?

Had the sacrifices his loved ones had made truly meant nothing?

He listened to Talcott cheerfully chatter as they drove toward Hammerhead. How could the kid be so chipper when the entire world had gone to hell around them? How could he be so happy to see Noctis?

Noctis knew why. Because he was going to be the one who fixed all of this. He knew, now. He knew what he was supposed to do. The thought made it hard to speak -- and no, Talcott, he didn’t want to talk on the phone to anyone. He didn’t want to talk at all. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want any of this to be happening.

He never asked for any of this.

He tumbled out of the car -- another contraction -- and into the blinding halogen lights of Hammerhead, and there to receive him were the three people he wanted the most (and least) to see.

Gladio -- taller, hairier, but with the same loose swagger. Noctis kind of wanted to punch him when he tried to make light of how long they’d been waiting. _Do you think I did it on purpose? Do you think I wanted to be trapped in that crystal while the world went by without me? Completely unaware of what was happening to any of the people I loved?_

Ignis -- the scars on his face gave the outlines of a story that Noctis’s overactive brain could fill in all too easily. _I did this to you. I destroyed your life._

Prompto -- same bright smile, same cheerful facade, but the lines around his eyes told the story that Noctis only knew before because he knew the man. His face was careworn, and he could tell sleep had not been his friend. It killed him to think that he’d been chilling in a crystal for the past decade, while Prompto had to live in -- well, live in _this_.

 _This_. This world, that Ardyn had brought on, and the only way he could end was through his death. He’d accepted it. He’d been _forced_ to accept it, or Bahamut would not let him out. But there was nothing to do, once he had absorbed all the power of the crystal. He could have remained there, held hostage by the Astrals, in a crystal prison, no contact with anyone in the outside world, no knowledge of what was happening to anyone he cared for.

Or he could just accept his fate and pay the price. _And why not,_ he asked himself. Luna had already paid. Ignis had already paid. Gladio had paid with flesh as well, and Prompto had paid in Zegnautus. It was Noctis’s turn. That was how he rationalized it to himself.

Then why didn’t that make this any easier?

He followed the guys into the Hammerhead service station numbly. Nothing looked the same -- it wasn’t Hammerhead any more, just a place with the name. Nobody was the same. Nothing was the same. It wasn’t the same world. Were these even his friends any more? Were they the same people?

Was he the same person?

Or was he also just a framework, a shell of a person whose only purpose now was to sacrifice himself on the stone altar that was the Throne of the Lucii? Did it even matter who Noctis Lucis Caelum was any more? That he loved beef bowls, video games and fishing? That he regretted never having experienced his first kiss? That he snuck peeks at his friends while they were changing -- just because he was curious? That he wanted more than anything to get black-out drunk right now so he didn’t have to think about what he had to do? That he was scared out of his fucking mind, no matter how resolutely he had agreed to Draconian’s demands?

“Noct? You in there, buddy?” Prompto waved a hand in front of Noctis’s face, and he swatted it aside.

“Yeah. Here.” He didn’t want to talk. What was there to say?

“It’s getting late -- yeah, I know, the whole always-dark thing kind of fucks with your circadian rhythms, so we just set our watches,” Prompto said. “We’re gonna sack out in one of the caravans. Come with?”

“Sure.” It hurt to see them casually continuing their day, as though he weren’t there. They tried to accommodate him, include him, but he just grunted and wound his way to one of the four beds in the caravan. It was the same caravan they’d slept in dozens of times in Hammerhead during their journey. The mattresses were lumpy and smelled like piss, the laminate of the counters was chipped and gouged, and the walls were littered with graffiti.

Noct watched in the dim light as his friends jockeyed around one another as they prepared for bed. The silence was heavy and awkward -- nobody said a word to each other. It was almost like they were three strangers. What then, had their journey accomplished? The one thing Noctis had thought about, dreamed about, while in the crystal was returning to his friends. What had he returned to?

Gladio ended up walking back outside with his book under his arm without a word to the group. Ignis crawled into the lower bunk on the other end of the caravan. And that was it. He was back in silence, but this time it was black, cold and stank like a toilet. Just like those years in the crystal, it felt stifling, isolating. He had no sense of the world outside, no sense of what was going on with his friends -- even though he could virtually reach out and touch them here. He wanted to cry.

Noctis laid back on the other lower bunk, arm pillowed under his head, and idly watched Prompto wet a rag, then wipe it over his face and into his armpits. He then unzipped his pants and turned his back to Noctis, pumping his arm a few times, then finishing his bath with a flip of the washcloth into the rusted sink. There was something so base about the numb, mechanicalness of his movements that it drove another nail into Noctis’s already aching heart.

Prompto re-buckled his belt and stepped on Noctis's bunk to hoist himself up. Mid-pull, he paused and hopped back down, causing the entire caravan to shudder. “You’re not asleep, are you?”

“No,” Noctis replied flatly.

“Wanna talk?” Prompto asked, sitting down on the edge of the bunk.

“Not really.”

“Ooo-kay.” Noctis could hear how wounded Prompto was by his tone. He didn’t mean to hurt Prompto. He had never wanted to hurt him. And yet all he had ever done was bring him pain. If he'd never encouraged him to become Crownsguard, he wouldn’t have suffered that torture in Zegnautus Keep. He likely never would have learned the truth of his birth. Noctis could have spared him all that pain. But no, he wanted his friend with him. And now he didn’t know what to say to him.

“Look, I’m sorry. Just-- coming back-- it’s a lot.” Noctis fought for better words, but none would come. He had a hard enough time giving voice to how he felt before he went into the crystal. But after a decade of not using words, it was almost as though he’d forgotten how to speak at all.

“Yeah, I can imagine. We -- I -- missed you. A lot. I’m glad you’re okay,” Prompto said.

Noctis sat up so Prompto could scoot more fully onto the bed. They both scooted onto the mattress and sat across from one another, cross-legged.

“So what’ve you been up to?” Noctis forced out. The words sounded leaden, like the polite small talk he used to have to make with his dad’s friends at Crown functions.

_Dad…_

His stomach flopped again. He didn’t want to think about his dad right now.

“Oh, just takin’ it day by day, yanno? Hunting, mainly. I spent most of my time around here, you know, in case Cindy needs anything.” Prompto fiddled with a pack of cigarettes a he talked “You mind?”

“You smoke?” Noctis asked incredulously. Prompto shrugged.

“Calms the nerves. Makes it easier on the days between meals. Besides, money’s not worth much to people nowadays. Smokes, though? They’re like gold. I trade with ‘em, but sometimes I use a few of my own supply.” Prompto chuckled and lit up. Noctis normally couldn’t stand the smell of cigarette smoke, but what was the use now?

“Wow.” Noctis wasn’t sure what else to say. He supposed that people were bound to pick up a few bad habits when the entire world had gone dark and there was nothing to do but huddle in Lestallum and hide from the daemons. What else had Prompto picked up in those ten years? 

Prompto exhaled and scratched the back of his neck. “So… what’s the plan? Do you have one?”

“Yeah. I have one,” Noctis said, picking at the threads poking out from the sagging mattress above him.

Prompto regarded Noctis expectantly, smoke wreathing around his head. “And…?”

“Look, do we have to do this right now?” Noctis snapped. Prompto cringed again, and guilt immediately hit Noctis again. “Sorry, man, sorry. I’m just… still not myself yet, I guess.”

“Maybe you just need some sleep,” Prompto offered.

“I’ve been pretty much asleep for the last 10 fucking years, Prom!” Noctis retorted. He scrubbed his hands over his face. What the hell was wrong with him? His temper was non-existant, he felt jittery, jumpy. He wanted to die, but at the same time he was more terrified of that than anything.

“Hey.” Prompto’s voice was soft, and Noctis felt a heavy hand on his bicep. “I get it, this has got to be pretty fucking overwhelming.”

Noctis opened his eyes and looked up at Prompto, who gave him a winning smile. “I have something that I bet will help.” The cigarette bobbed precariously between Prompto's lips as he dug through the small pack he wore strapped to his waist. “Does the trick for me, anyhow.” He sorted through crinkling plastic and clanking metal that could be coins, or something else, then produced a small plastic baggie containing a powder.

“The hell is this?” Noctis asked, taking the baggie.

“It’s called Prazo. Doctors prescribed it for anxiety back in the day,” Prompto said. “Goes a lot further like this, though.” He flicked the baggie. “Little bit goes a long way. Sometimes it’s the only way I can get to sleep.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Hell, sometimes it’s the only way I can make myself get out of bed.”

Noctis looked at Prompto for a long moment, his stomach clenched. _This is where you are now? Snorting drugs to get by? I did this to you, too._

Prompto took another drag, then clenched his cigarette between his teeth and leaned out of the bunk, grabbing the loose edge of the laminate counter and snapping it off. “Here,” he said, taking the bag back from Noctis’s limp fingers. “Let me.” He tapped a small pile of the powder out onto the laminate, then used the bottom edge of the baggie to form two small, thin lines. “Hold this.” He held the laminate out to Noctis.

Noctis took the laminate and stared down at the two white lines. The King of Lucis, snorting drugs in a dingy caravan. That would have been a scandal, back in the day.

Now, nobody cared.

Noctis wasn’t sure _he_ cared.

Prompto produced a small section of drinking straw from his pack -- its mere existence told Noctis all he needed to know. “Watch and learn, your Majesty,” he said with a wink, setting his cigarette on the torn-up counter corner. He took the laminate in one hand and the straw in the other, and with a confidence born of practice snorted one line. He took a deep breath and swallowed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Do it fast. Don’t hesitate or it’ll burn like crazy and get stuck up there.”

“Right.” Noctis took the laminate and straw and took a long moment to psych himself up. _What's there to lose? Can't possibly hurt worse than what they're going to do to you._  He followed Prompto's instructions, and it burned like hell anyway. "Fuck," he ground out, rubbing the bridge of his nose roughly. His eyes watered, and he swallowed convulsively, tasting bitterness sliding down the back of his throat into his empty stomach. "So what's it going to do?"

"Just wait," Prompto said, plucking his cigarette back from the counter and slouching back against the wall. "Give it like five minutes."

It didn't even take one minute. Noctis's head swam and everything fell out of focus for a brief moment, before struggling back into clarity. The cold, spasming stiffness melted away from his muscles, and the streaky shadows of the caravan softened. It was like being back in the crystal without the thoughts, without the loneliness. "Shit."

"Yeah?" Prompto grinned. "Just sit back and enjoy it." He smacked the mattress next to him, and Noctis obediently slid into the space, slumping into the crook of Prompto's arm. Normally sitting so intimately would feel weird. But right now, Noctis couldn't feel a damn thing.

He let his head fall against Prompto's shoulder, and his eyes slipped closed. There was no avoiding what was to come. If the Astrals wanted their sacrificial lamb, they would have it. But he would be numb when he ascended those stairs into the Citadel. It was the only thing he could control.


End file.
